The Nobodies
by Sandylee007
Summary: POWERED FUTURISTIC AU When contract killer Erik runs into a mysterious Charles and saves the mutant he finds out that the telepath belongs to a monster from his past. With unwanted desires pulling them to different directions which fates will they choose? SLASH, human trafficking
1. It Began With Red, Black and Blue

A/N: Yup, it's time to unleash a new 'X-Men' story. (grins) Yay…?

WARNINGS: SLASH, violence, death, gore, human trafficking, ADULT themes… (blinks) Uh… Anybody out there?

DISCLAIMER: Oh please…! If I did own something I'd be in the hospital for having jumped through the roof with joy.

Alright, then… (gulps) I'm just about to chicken out so I'll just cut the chase. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

**_The Nobodies_**

* * *

It Began With Red, Black and Blue

* * *

_Florida, Southern District 4_

_September 2042_

* * *

By the time he had, against all expectations, survived past his twenty-eight birthday Erik Lensherr had lost track on how many people he'd killed. He traveled from district to district, like some sort of a messenger of death, spreading devastation without a single backwards glance. He didn't regret, not really. For a very long time he'd been allowed to choose his assignments. It was the privilege of the very best.

Rapists.

Pedophiles.

Sadistic killers. (Oh, the irony…)

He put them down, like a vet does to dogs that have been deemed unfit for any form of rehabilitation. Damned souls with nothing good in them. Erik didn't enjoy the blood all over his hands but if someone had to take care of these animals…

Erik's pulse and heartbeat were perfectly even that late night, as he made sure that he had all the necessary equipment. With the calmness of a very experienced predator he replayed his current assignment. Tried to spot holes in his plan of action.

William Stryker. A sadistic asshole with a military background. One of the golden boys of the CIA during daytime, a sadistic monster in the covers of the night. A man who'd killed twenty-two mutants in the name of science, right after torturing them for days. Erik was going to enjoy putting down this one, very much. For once Azazel had given him a pleasant task.

Men like Stryker were the biggest reason to his choice of career.

His eyes and heart on fire Erik made his way to the massive, white mansion, snorting at the lack of security systems. Did Stryker honestly think that no one would ever come after him? That he wouldn't have to pay for what he'd done?

Ah, not quite.

Two security guards. Three. Erik had been prepared for them. With a quick, almost off-handed inspection he detected their guns. Their metal answered his call eagerly. The guards could only stare as their weapons flew away, two landing right at Erik's feet and one fitting chillingly well to the hold of his long fingers.

Ten sharp bangs. Followed by four more, just to be sure. A body after another fell down, like nothing but rag dolls. The look on Erik's face didn't change when he marched over the corpses and blood. Didn't spare the gruesome deaths a single glance. According to his report Stryker never had more guards than this. It was time to finish the job, then.

Fast and easy. No battles with conscience. Good. Erik preferred it that way.

The mansion was dark and sounded hollow, which made it easy for Erik not to look around. He never looked around, never spent more time in his targets' homes than necessary. The less he knew of them as humans the better. He'd seen the building's design. It was easy to find the master bedroom without much of looking.

Stryker was awake, of course. After all it'd been fourteen gunshots and Erik hadn't bothered to use a silencer. It felt more honest that way.

A fool's honesty. There was a gun greeting him. A Glock 26, to be exact. It was swatted away with a single flick of a wrist – but not before he'd given Stryker's forehead a rather impressive bruise with it.

Still obviously looking for something to use as a weapon or shield Stryker stammered, trembling violently and deathly pale. "I'm a federal agent. If you shoot, I swear to god I'll…!"

Erik wasn't impressed. His eyebrow arched while the agent's gun was already responding to the flirt of his powers, ready to act. "You'll what? Kill me, just like you slaughtered those twenty-two others of my kind? I'm curious to see you try." And then the gun was already in his grasp. In an instant he pointed, tilted his head, savoured the electrifying moment right before the kill. "I'm not letting you extinguish this species." He fired once. Twice. Altogether six times, his hand testing the gun that'd been held against him only moments earlier. Flashbacks pummeled his head when he watched the body fall down.

/ _"You need to be a very brave boy, Erik."_ /

/ _"I love you."_ /

/ _"Don't make a sound."_ /

/ "_It'll be alright."_ /

/ _His father's dying breath._ /

/ _His mother's scream._ /

/ _His mother's blood, spreading like wasted fine wine all over the floor._ /

Erik might've been lost to that disastrous path of memories for ages if it wasn't for the sounds that found his ears all of a sudden. Thuds. Scratches. Choked gasps. Turning his head towards the direction of the noise Erik discovered a huge, tightly locked closet. As though who or whatever caused to ruckus had sensed his attention the sounds intensified. Then stopped altogether. There seemed to be a flash of terror in the air.

Erik frowned, adrenaline making the hair in the back of his neck rise. Who the hell was making all that noise? There wasn't supposed to be anyone else in the mansion.

His powers fully prepared along with the gun Erik approached quickly, without making a sound. He counted to three in his head, then unleashed his powers on the door. It flew open with almost pathetic ease.

Flew open to reveal the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Erik blinked against his will, even staggered a step backwards. Those eyes… They caught his and held, like he'd been under some sort of a spell. It took ages until he finally managed to give the stranger a proper look.

The trapped man couldn't be much older than twenty. The first thing Erik noticed was the unhealthily pale naked skin, which the man tried desperately to hide immediately after catching him looking. The skin he managed to see was full of wounds, scars and bruises. The man's brown hair looked like they hadn't been washed properly in a while and the whole body was so thin that it would've been easy to distinguish most of the bones. None of that caught Erik's attention, though, no matter how shocked he was by what he saw. Those eyes were what mesmerized him. Despite the stranger's appalling physical condition those blue pools hadn't lost their magic. The soul behind them, no matter how terrified, hadn't been broken.

Who was this man? How did he get into a closet? What the hell was going on in the mansion before he came?

Erik didn't know how long they'd simply stared at each other until the younger man finally spoke. Spoke, in a language Erik couldn't understand. That was Russian, wasn't it? The words flowed out rapidly, with fear, panic, threat and despair.

Erik raised his hands, trying to keep anger and irritation from his face. He probably failed. _Oh, for fuck's sakes…!_ "I don't speak Russian, alright? I don't understand a damn word you're saying!" he snarled, deciding that English was his best guess. "Calm down and shut up, alright?"

His words had an instant impact, although perhaps not the one he'd been expecting. The stranger's mouth hung open and the eyes widened dramatically. A second ticked by before a breath light voice came. "Are you… going to kill me?" Horrified as the younger man was Erik couldn't help detecting the slightest hint of hope. It chilled him.

_I really should, you know? _Erik took his time before answering. "No. I'm not."

The other nodded but didn't speak. Erik was glad. He needed some time to think.

What the hell was he going to do? Stryker must've called out for help. Soon the whole mansion would be full of armed men and he wasn't sure if even he'd be able to outmatch them all. If he'd leave this stranger all alone the man would most likely be killed, blamed for the deaths of Stryker and his guards. If they'd go together Erik had a feeling that he'd get into all kinds of trouble.

It would've been wonderful to have at least one good option.

"Can you walk?" Erik asked in the end, trying to keep his tone flat despite the annoying tingling underneath his skin. Because the stranger appeared half dead.

The prisoner nodded surprisingly determinedly. Erik could practically hear how much it hurt but the brown haired enigma forced himself on all fours, then up. Slowly, slowly, trembling like a leaf in a storm and biting his lip not to whimper. But succeeding.

Without saying a word – not understanding himself at all anymore – Erik moved so that he supported the struggling man with one arm. The stranger shivered and appeared sceptical for a moment, clearly not having anticipated such a gesture, then flashed him a look of gratitude. "Thank you."

Erik couldn't keep himself from snorting. Their steps were slow and laboured as they began to take their leave. "Don't thank me", he half growled. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet."

The brown haired man shivered but said nothing. Clearly walking was taking all the man's concentration. Each step seemed to be a new world of pain.

One their way the stranger put evident effort into not looking at all the death, all the blood, Erik had left behind. There were some tears in those blue eyes but they didn't spill and the man didn't utter a single word through tightly gritted teeth. The metal bender was glad. He wasn't up to lying that he felt bad about those kills, for there was still no remorse in his veins.

Reaching Erik's car took them ten minutes although the distance wasn't all that long. It was almost too late, they both knew. Any moment now Stryker's backup would be there. With a little bit more force than would've probably been wise Erik pushed the stranger to his car, closing his ears on the hiss of pain that slipped from the other. Frowning at the blood that was now staining his shirt as well he hopped to the driver's seat and started the car without uttering a word. Ushering the vehicle into motion he tried not to look at the naked, bloodied and shivering man beside him. (The things that'd be thought of them if they'd be pulled over…)

They'd been driving for about fifteen minutes, fast as the devil had been chasing them, until Charles had gathered himself enough to speak. Those eyes flickered on him for a microsecond before the whisper came, so lightly that it could've been all in Erik's head. "Erik… Thank you."

Erik said nothing, only tightened his hold on the steering wheel. His eyes darkened, matching well with the night around them. He held on tight, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

(It wasn't until quite a bit later Erik came to wonder how the stranger knew his name.)

* * *

TBC OR NOT?

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A/N: So, folks… (gulps) It's your call. Was that any good at all – or should I press delete and beg that you forget this ever existed? PLEASE, leave a note and let me know!

In any case, thank you so, so much for reading! (hugs) Take care!


	2. Open Wounds

A/N: Yup, I'm back. And wow, right on time. (grins) Hooray?

First, of course! Thank you so much for all your reviews and listings. Starting out a new story is extremely nerve wrecking. Your support means the world to me. (HUGS) So thank you!

Awkay… Before I get all sappy, let's get going, shall we? Especially because I'm a bit nervous about this chapter. (gulps) I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

**BTW… The Charles in this story is quite a bit different from my usual. He's had… a very challenging life, to say the least, that's made him this way. Just thought I should let you know, so you won't be taken aback by this chapter.**

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Open Wounds

* * *

Erik had hideouts, mostly apartments owned by '_friends_ of _friends_ of _friends_', here and there. Considering his line of job they were necessary. He was beyond glad that the one in Florida was in such a neighborhood where people didn't ask questions. (The last thing he needed was neighbors or the police breathing down his neck.) He couldn't feel even a single pair of eyes watching when he helped the naked, still trembling brunet out of his car. (He winced upon seeing the blood on his beloved blue Sedan's seat. It'd be a bitch to clean up.) It seemed that walking was no longer an option for his unwanted companion. Deciding not to risk being caught by people who might actually get curious Erik scooped the painfully thin man into his arms. The stranger moaned in pain but didn't produce a word, probably too much in agony and much too exhausted.

The apartment building's hallway was blissfully dark. Knowing each step by heart Erik made his way to a certain door in the second floor. Grabbing his keys while keeping his hold on the smaller man steady was a challenge but he managed. A million things and emotions swirling in his head Erik entered and kicked the door closed.

It'd been a long, exhausting day. And judging by what was in his arms it was going to get even longer. He was in a desperate need for something stronger than beer.

Neither of them paid much attention to the practically dark, bleakly furnitured apartment as Erik carried his cargo to the bathroom. The reek of long since used pipes slapped him across the face but the stranger didn't seem to notice. Erik could nearly feel the other's panic and felt the need to explain although he couldn't understand why. It irritated him. "You need a bath. It looks like you haven't washed up in days. Besides, I don't want your blood all over the apartment." Not really waiting for a permission he laid the man to the tub and began to run water, absentmindedly making sure that it wasn't icy. Throughout the process the stranger kept a very careful eye on him. The man jolted violently when he leaned closer, as though expecting an attack. Keeping his motions and expression softer than would've felt natural Erik took a sponge, showed it to the tense stranger. _Goddamnit…!_ "Because it doesn't look like you'll be able to do it properly by yourself I'm going to wash you up, alright? So that we can take a look at your wounds and clean them up. I'm assuming that you don't want to die of a infection."

For a long moment the brunet looked at him, hard, then finally turned his head away and nodded slowly. Taking that as a permission Erik began the work, unable to understand why he felt sick to his stomach while surveying the damage. Why did he care?

As he'd expected most of the wounds were old, already scars. The man's back, arms, legs and chest were littered by them. Erik focused his attention on the newer ones, since he could do at least something about them. There were what looked like whip marks on the stranger's back, not very deep but certainly painful. A deeper cut close to the hip. Dark bruises on both sides, such that screamed tales of broken ribs. Bruises pretty much everywhere, really, face, legs and arms included. What sickened Erik the most, though, was the blood slowly getting washed away from the man's behind and between the legs. (Such damage screamed out loud even without explanations.) Erik preferred not to think about the damage below the skin.

The man would've needed hospital treatment but perhaps this would do.

After about fifteen minutes, with most of the skin cleaned up as well as possible, Erik finally spoke. "I just risked a lot to get you out of there", he pointed out rather gruffly. "The least you could give me is your name."

It was quiet for a long time. The water was already cooling. "Charles." It was said so quietly that for a moment Erik was sure that he imagined it. The man's blue eyes were on him, observing, evaluating. "My name is Charles."

Erik nodded slowly, his head buzzing. Once again he found it hard to look away from those eyes so he held them, shivering slightly. "Okay." His hand twitched slightly, without him even noticing it. Reaching out. "Charles."

It was as though he'd broken some unspoken rule. As fast as it was possible with the injuries Charles pulled his legs to his chest and held them there tightly, forming a rather pitiable protective shield. Erik growled with irritation, continuing the process of washing.

Half an hour or so more passed until the wounds had finally been taken care of. By then Charles had gathered enough strength to be able to stand up without support outside the tub. Finding it irritatingly hard to keep his eyes from wandering Erik dropped a pile of clothes in front of the brown haired stranger. "These are mine and probably too large for you, but perhaps they'll do." With those words, determined to keep himself in line, he turned and began to leave the room. "One door to the left in the hallway there's a room I use as a storage. There's a mattress. I'm expecting to find you there in an hour. I'm sure that you understand why I have to lock the door."

Charles was quiet for a long time. Then swallowed. "I don't know how to repay you."

Erik's lips formed a thin, tight line. A shiver ran through him. "I'm sure that I'll think of something." Already outside the room he added an afterthought. "And Charles? In the morning I'm expecting to hear a decent excuse to how you know my name." With those words he closed the door and headed towards a bottle of vodka.

The last thing he did before passing out was to make sure that Charles had obeyed him. Yes, the man had. Charles was curled up on the bare floor, back towards the room's entrance. Stiff, shivering, clearly not asleep. But in place. Erik closed and locked the door although a huge part of him hollered against the decision. Without uttering a word.

With a loud sigh Erik made his way to his bed that felt very hard and cold all of a sudden. He closed his eyes, let his mind float away. For once sleep found him easily.

* * *

When Erik opened his eyes, waking up from a surprisingly sound sleep, it took a long moment before he remembered what happened the night before.

The kill.

The completion of an assignment.

Charles.

Pushing himself up and out of his painfully uncomfortable bed Erik stretched, unable to keep his thoughts quite in line. He'd left his bedroom's door open to be able to keep an eye on the door of the tiny room he'd given Charles. Now his eyes refused to stop straying towards the room. He found himself wondering if he'd find a dead body inside.

His feet moving almost on their own Erik made his way towards the room where Charles rested. He unlocked the door and threw it open. And froze, his eyes widening a fraction.

Now this was something he didn't see every day.

Charles wasn't dead or unconscious. Or even asleep. In fact the man was standing up, appearing a great deal less half dead than the night before. Stark naked.

The words slipped through before Erik could even begin to try and process them. He even recoiled a step although certain parts of him were far more excited than he would've cared to admit. "What the hell are you doing?"

Seeing his shock Charles looked away, not blushing (probably incapable of doing so) but clearly completely, utterly humiliated. Fists balled so tighly that knuckles turned white. "I… I don't have anything else to offer, Erik. To repay everything you've done." The man shivered, seeming to feel physically ill. "So let's just…"

Erik growled, feeling much hotter than would've been reasonable. Controlling his body had never been so hard. _Fucking hell…! Shit…!_ "Charles, I don't expect _this_ of you. Do you understand? You don't need to do this. So put your clothes on."

Charles didn't appear any less humiliated while dressing as fast as possible with the numerous injuries. The younger man's hands shook slightly and those impossibly, infuriatingly blue eyes wouldn't stop sneaking glances towards him. "I'm sorry." It came out quickly, in between a plea and a exhausted sigh. "I made a mistake."

Erik frowned, unable to tear his eyes from the other man although he could tell that the look made the brown haired enigma feel uncomfortable. Those stiff muscles… The shame in those motions… The lost look in those eyes… "What the hell made you think that I'd want to…?" He didn't quite manage to voice the rest. 'Want to' what? _Fuck you?_ _For you to pleasure me? _When a blink ago even the idea of being washed by him had been something barely tolerable. And here he'd thought that _his _head was a mess…

Charles looked away. For a while he honestly feared that the younger one would throw up. "Because it's all I can offer. And… that's what they're usually after, anyway."

Erik's eyebrow arched although dread was already giving him a sinking feeling. "'They'?" he repeated. Surely Charles couldn't mean…? He decided to take a look, though.

Without asking for a permission and trying to ignore the way Charles shivered under the unexpected contact he grabbed the younger man's wrist, moving the sleeve with quite a bit more force than he'd been supposed to. What he found filled his veins with ice.

A barcode.

"Shit!" Erik snarled out loud, his heart forgetting one valuable beat. Then, in German, his list went on, going through every single curse he knew. With a past like his that was a lot.

Charles swallowed thickly, stepping back with alerted eyes. "I'm sorry." Those words were getting very, very annoying already. "I…"

Everything metallic in the room began to dance, interrupting Charles violently. In some twisted way Erik was glad. He was too full of rage to listen to another word. It took ages before he was able to speak without the need to resort to violence. "I just saved your goddamn ass, brought you into my home. You owe me some answers. That's the least you could give me", he hissed. Then, without waiting, he spat out. "Who the hell did I steal from?"

Tears filled Charles' eyes, only to disappear in less than a blink. The man's teeth were gritted so tightly that it must've hurt. "Sebastian Shaw." Suddenly those eyes seemed to know much more than they should've. "My owner is Sebastian Shaw."

It's impossible to describe just what went through Erik when he heard that cursed name. When the monster that haunted him day and night was brought to his life once more. Finally, after all this time, after all these years…

Flashes filled his head while his fists balled so tightly that nails dug through skin and his eyes filled with something that wasn't quite human.

/ _"It's only one little coin, _kleine Erik_. Surely you'll be able to do that much, for your mother?"_ /

All that pain…

/ _He screamed at the top of his lungs, from the bottom of his very heart and soul. The pain wouldn't end._ /

All that torture…

/ _The smell and sight of blood made him want to throw up._ /

All that loss…

/ _"_Alles ist Gut, Erik. Alles ist Gut._"_ /

"Stop it! Please…!" It took a moment before Erik realized that it wasn't his voice pleading. It was Charles'. The man was squeezing his head with both hands, visibly in a great deal of pain. "Calm down, please…!"

Erik frowned, confused for a moment. And then, as he watched Charles gasping and struggling to regain control, he realized. His eyes narrowed while something quite dark traveled through his veins. If the anger was directed to Shaw or Charles barely mattered to him. "You're a mutant, too, aren't you?" It came out as a vicious hiss, far more sharply than he'd intended. "You're a damn telepath." He'd met one before and she most certainly wasn't good news.

Charles' eyes were wide as they met his. The younger man swallowed loudly. "Erik, I…"

Erik wasn't in the mood to listen. He didn't hesitate to throw a mental wave of threat at the man who was clearly expecting an assult of some sort. "I'm going to leave now because if I don't there's no telling what I'll do to you. Try any tricks on me and I'll send you right back to your owner in pieces. Is that understood?"

Charles said nothing, only nodded and looked at him with those infuriatingly innocent eyes. Eyes that saw far too much. "What do you wish me to do?"

Erik's blood boiled even further. "What I want? I want you to stay here, in this room, perfectly quiet. And I want you to stay the fuck out of my head." With that he slammed the door closed and locked it, then stormed out of the apartment.

Walked out, although a huge part of him begged him to stop. He told himself that the hesitation was Charles' doing.

* * *

Four hours was what it took before Erik managed to calm down, just a little bit. Enough to realize that Charles probably hadn't chosen to be Shaw's toy. To remember that he hadn't given the telepath anything to eat before storming away. To realize that Charles hadn't hurt him. Just yet, at least.

Without saying a word he unlocked the door and sauntered to the kitchen, then waited. After about ten minutes his visitor finally appeared, looking hesitant yet hopeful. Without speaking Charles glanced towards the food on the table. A tiny amount of not exactly fresh bread, a little bit of juice and coffee, sugar, some ham. For most it wasn't much but the telepath appeared bewildered.

Erik shrugged. "It's just breakfast." His voice wasn't kind but not hostile, either. That was progress.

Charles appeared almost amused all of a sudden. There could've been a trace of a smile. "I know what it is, Erik. Although it's been a while since I last had some." That was the longest he'd heard the other man speak. It seemed to exhaust the telepath. "You just… surprised me, is all. Thank you."

Erik nodded, not quite knowing what to say. He watched deep in thought how Charles took a cup with a delicate, definitely upper class motion and poured it halfway full with coffee. He had to fight back the sudden urge to smile upon seeing how much sugar the telepath added.

So Charles had a sweet tooth.

Charles' eyes flickered his way for a second. He could almost sense the mostly involuntary connection. "Pardon my manners. Sugar's been… a rare treat lately."

Erik's eyes narrowed, giving a frosty warning. "I already told you to stay the fuck out of my head. I won't warn you again."

Charles swallowed. The flicker he saw was more of sadness and disappointment than fear. He wasn't sure which one would've been worse. "I'm sorry." Yes, those words _were_ getting old. "It's just… overwhelming, to be able to hear again. Shaw… He gives me this drug. It's been quiet for so long. It takes some time before my shields function properly."

Erik nodded slowly, angry at himself although he couldn't quite understand why. Was it too much to want his head to be left alone? His thoughts were none of this stranger's business.

A surprisingly pleasant silence took over as they sat there, sipping their coffees slowly. Taking the opportunity Erik gave his unwanted houseguest a glimpse. Now, with far too large but clean clothes covering the damage, Charles appeared even younger and more fragile than before. And very beautiful, Erik was forced to admit. He'd had appetite for both genders since he was a young boy. This telepath was going to tempt him very hard.

Clearly sensing his stare Charles looked up. The blush made those snow white cheeks appear at least slightly more healthy. "I'm… afraid that I'm not too comfortable with being looked at like that, if you don't mind."

Erik frowned. He was still finding it hard to put the pieces together. "How the hell did someone like you end up into Shaw's hands?" he demanded, genuinely curious. It surprised him that he cared at all. Perhaps he was bored.

Charles seemed surprised as well. The telepath looked away, those blue eyes darkening significantly. It took a very long time before the words began to fall, like making their way through a massive wall. "My father died when I was just a little boy. My mom couldn't take it and started drinking. She was vulnerable and my dad left her with a massive fortune. Such a combination was doomed to… draw attention. My stepfather… Well, he left a lot to be desired. The day my mom died he introduced me to his friend, Shaw." The brunet fidgeted and swallowed thickly. Clearly sharing this was the last thing he wanted to do. "You can imagine the rest."

Even the thought made Erik feel sick. To make a child go through something like that… "How old were you?"

It was easy to tell just how little Charles wanted to answer. He suspected that the younger man replied only because of the feeling that it was his duty. "Eight." The shame was there once more, almost palpable. The telepath wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm twenty-five, now."

Erik couldn't say anything to that. Didn't know what to feel. Seventeen years? Of that life, in Shaw's hands?_ Christ…!_

Charles didn't read his thoughts – he didn't feel the telepath inside his head. But of course the man saw. "Let me assure you, there's no reason to pity me."

Erik wasn't sure if he would've apologized or argued if it wasn't for the buzzing sound it his pocket. He snatched his cell phone after a deep breath and flipped it open to accept to call. The familiar red face of Azazel greeted him. "_So you're still alive? Impressive._"

Erik's eyes narrowed. He wasn't in the mood for Azazel's wry humor at the moment. "Now what?"

Clearly deciding that pissing him off wasn't worth the momentary fun Azazel went on casually, a thick accent clearly audible. "_I've got a new assignment for you. A corrupted politician in Northern District 6. Interested?_"

Erik emitted something between a sigh and a groan. What choice did he have? "Just send me the information. I'll be on my way." He cut the connection without any pleasantries, knowing that Azazel wouldn't mind.

There was a frown on Charles' face when he met the telepath's eyes. "A new assignment? So you're going to kill another person?"

Erik shrugged, irritation mixing with something he couldn't quite name. "If my career bothers you so I'm more than happy to send you right back to Shaw", he hissed out. Not bothering to wait for a response he got up, began to prepare himself. "I'll leave in twenty minutes, with or without you."

Had he turned around he would've seen the dejected, almost betrayed look in Charles' eyes. That expression, however, lasted only for a second until it made room for silent acceptance. "How are you going to get me past the borderline?"

Erik shrugged. "We have your powers. I'm sure that we'll be able to figure out something." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to push down the pulse of a headache with sheer will. "Either you go with me or not. Make up your damn mind."

* * *

Watching Erik's distancing back Charles had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed and wrapped his arms tightly himself. No amount of swallowing erased the horrible taste from his mouth.

After seventeen years… Why did he think that things would change all of a sudden? That this Erik would be different?

Well, at least Erik hadn't kicked him out. Or harmed him so far. He'd had worse. That was a hint comfort. He'd just have to obey and be careful until he'd be handed over to someone else.

When Erik appeared again almost exactly twenty minutes later Charles was still there, ready to go because there was nothing else he could've done.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Uh huh… Talking about messed up people… (sweatdrops) How in the world are these two ever going to get their things straightened out?

Alright… Bad? Good? Lukewarm? You know how to let me know. That box down below is just calling out to you, isn't it…? (winks)

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

**Lune**: I'm unable to resist puppy eyes. (chuckles) I'm really excited to hear that you're looking forward to the next chapter! 'Hope it cashes out your expectations.

Loads of thank yous for the amazing review!

ps: Awww, don't worry about grammar and spelling! I'm a non-native, too. (hugs)

* * *

**sjl**: Hi there, my friend! (grins and hugs) I'm jumping with joy to hear that you're so excited to read more.

LOL! A blanket would definitely be in order. Poor Charles!

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

* * *

**Guest**: I'm really glad to hear that you liked the startout! (grins from ear to ear) I admit that it has a oneshottish feeling to it. We'll see just what kind of a story this grows into…

Tons of thank yous for the review!

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**anonymous**: Oh, how it warms my heart that you have such faith in this story! (sighs with excitement) I really hope that the next chapter won't let you down.

Colossal thank yous for the review!

ps: Okay, I seriously feel like a idiot right now (pardon me, I've grown in dark north where all this stuff comes the last). But what's AO3? I'm really curious.

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**snowpeaches**: It means a lot to me that you see so much potential in this story! (beams) I really, really hope that the next one won't fall flat in your book.

Badass Erik is so, so hot, isn't he? (drools shamelessly) And Charles is such a man of mysteries. (sighs dreamily)

Massive thank yous for the review!

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**yourfuturereader**: Awww, can't say 'no' when you ask so kindly. (hugs) 'Hope the next one turns out worth the wait.

Huge thank yous for the review!


	3. On the Ruins of Humanity

A/N: You already thought that I wouldn't update today, didn't you? (grins) I've had a pretty insane day but no matter, the chapter IS here. Yay?

First though! Thank you so much for your love; reviews, listings… You've made me happier than you could ever imagine. So thank you! (hugs)

Awkay… (takes a breat) Because I don't think that you came here for my babbling, let's move on. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

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On the Ruins of Humanity

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_Montana, Northern District 6_

_October 2042_

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Charles had been outside District 6 before, a lifetime ago. He wasn't even born in the war torn country at all. Before his path met Shaw's he lived in extremely isolated England. It was a small miracle that the man even managed to get him out of the country. When Charles first set his foot on American soil the country was torn by the final stages of the war. The things he saw then, and especially the thoughts that flooded into his barely shielded head… They'd never, ever fade away from underneath his skin. When Shaw first injected him with the serum that numbed his ability it was almost a blessing. Anything was better than listening to those tormented thoughts constantly, especially when he was only eight years old.

District 6 had war written all over it. Traces of old war camps, bombed buildings, steel and concrete, memoir marks… Even though they were still in Erik's old yet surprisingly well functioning car he could practically smell death.

"If you want us to have any hope of getting through this you need to focus, alright?" Erik's voice was tense, made him tempted to wonder if the man was nervous. "We're just about to reach the borderline."

Charles nodded and took a deep breath, bracing himself. He really hoped that his powers would still function properly after such a long time, after all the times he'd been drugged. "Alright."

They slid to the border station just as Charles brought two fingers to his head and focused, as hard as he could. Erik's expression was made of stone while a man of the metal bender's age with wild, brown hair and far from friendly, piercing blue eyes made his way to the car. The window slid open after a sharp knock. "And you are…?" The voice was even less inviting than those eyes.

Erik met the look with one that would've given anyone chills. "Max Eisenhardt, District 3."

The border officer's eyebrow rose. Those eyes spoke of threat. "A foreigner?"

"German. Is that a problem?"

Of course it wasn't. Germany was a great supporter of the north. The officer emitted a gruff sound. "The duty is five dollars."

While Erik paid Charles almost dared to sigh in relief. Almost. Because just then the officer's eyes turned and darted directly towards him. They stared, and stared – right through. Before the chilling moment could get any riskier Erik was driving, got them past the border line. They were safe.

Neither of them spoke while the journey towards their new hideout continued. Both of them were too deep in thought and Charles had to admit that he was exhausted. Using his powers after such a long time was harder than he'd expected.

The building certainly left a lot to be desired. Several apartments lacked windows. Moisture stains could be seen everywhere. But at least it wouldn't draw attention. That was enough for Charles.

Erik gave him a look that was between questioning and irritated. "Are you planning on coming or not?"

Charles took a deep breath. For a moment he thought about using his powers to calm Erik's mind but chose quickly against it. "Sorry."

Erik said nothing to that. Taking the other man turning and beginning to walk away as a command to follow Charles found himself walking as well. It felt unnerving, to jump head first into the unknown.

The tiny, messy, cold and dark apartment certainly didn't feel like a home. But compared to the alternative it was a heaven. Erik barely looked at him while preparing to leave. "Stay put, do you understand? I'll be back as soon as I can." So saying the metal bender left, slamming the door.

Charles stared at the closed door for the longest time, unable to move a muscle. Barely daring to breathe. His eyes were impossibly wide while information sunk in.

The door… It hadn't been locked. If he wanted to be free, truly free, this might be his only chance to run away. This was his one and only chance to leave it all behind. His past… Shaw… Even Erik… A life outside slavery certainly sounded tempting. But… Did he even know how to live free anymore? Where would he go? What would he do?

Charles stared at the door. And right there his decision was made. It made him feel even colder than the autumn air seeping in from every single crack.

Barely making a sound he snatched a worn, thin blanket from the bed, then lay down on the floor and covered himself with the blanket. He lay down, completely still, and waited. Waited for what he had no idea.

* * *

Erik found it dangerously hard to focus while he made his way through the dark, shadowy city. He'd reached the correct place faster than he expected. One of his eyebrows bounced up.

It was a small, definitely not eyecatching house on the edge of the city. Completely grey, just like all the other buildings nearby. Funny. Erik had always imagined that politicians, especially the corrupted ones, lived in better places.

Chasing away the stun Erik took a deep breath, preparing himself, then sneaked closer. No security systems, no guards. A big mistake.

Easily making his way into the dark and small house that had very little furniture Erik kept glancing around, warning bells going off all over his head. The bedroom practically waited for him, behind the second door on the right. He counted to ten, then pushed the door open soundlessly. And swore under his breath.

There, on a bed that looked suspiciously majestic in comparison to everything else, lay a young woman with long, dark hair. A woman, alone, with a tattoo he recognized easily decorating her arm. And Erik had sworn, sworn, sworn that he'd _never_ kill a woman.

He was going to rip Azazel's balls off for this.

This was no corrupted politician. Just a member of some low risk group mob family. He'd been fooled, and he _hated_ being fooled.

Like the situation hadn't been bad enough already the woman chose that very moment to wake up. At first she blinked twice, as though not quite understanding what was going on. Then her eyes flew wide and color disappeared from her skin. "Shit…!"

Erik's eyes narrowed in a warning. If she'd scream he swore… "Who the hell are you? I was looking for Janos."

The woman swallowed, terror shining bright in her eyes. "Angel." Her tone was quiet but full of alert. He didn't like the way her hand twitched towards the hem of her tiny, scarlet nightgown. "Janos… He's meeting some friends. He'll be home soon."

Erik nodded. All his limbs seemed to weight a ton. This certainly wasn't going to be pleasant. "Alright. Then I'll wait for him."

Were those… tears? Angel was trembling while her hand continued its desperate journey. "Please…! Our son… He's right there, on the other side of the wall… Please don't…!"

Erik's eyes darkened while a horrible taste filled his mouth. "I don't kill children. I have no intention of harming him." Hell, he didn't even care to know what the supposed kid's name was. The less he knew the better.

Angel nodded slowly. By then he could see tears. "Thank you." And then she pulled the item against him – a small handgun, the calibre of which he couldn't distinguish.

With years of experience Erik was faster. The gun flew far out of her reach before she could even gasp and at the same second the knife he'd been reaching out for from the start was moving. He looked away when her blood splashed, staining the bedsheets.

There in the dark, with only her dead body and possibly a child somewhere in the apartment keeping him company, Erik waited for Janos. Waited, his head aching with the desire to scream and his throat burning for something _strong_. Waited, and decided three things.

He was never going to accept assignments from Azazel again, that is if he'd decide not to kill the red mutant himself. He'd kill Janos quickly, so that he'd be able to get the hell out the house as fast as possible. And before leaving he'd make sure that – if there really was a soon orphan child in the apartment at all – the bedroom's door was bolted properly, so that the child wouldn't have to see.

Perhaps Erik was a monster. But he wasn't about to create another one.

* * *

When Erik entered his current safehouse a couple of hours later he didn't expect to find Charles there, not after forgetting to lock the door. What reason had he given the younger man to stay? Once again the telepath surprised him.

There, on the so called bedroom's floor, Charles was curled up with his back towards the door. The man had wrapped a pathetically thin blanket around himself as tightly as humanly possible. It wasn't until then Erik came to think that his unwanted companion had spent a mighty amount of time in the heat of Florida. Montana was probably a brutal experience after that, especially when winter was fast approaching.

Charles remained perfectly still and quiet but the man's breathing gave away that the telepath couldn't possibly be asleep. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, coming to a conclusion that no amount of time was enough to help him understand, Erik headed towards the kitchen. He needed something to drink. "Need something to warm up?" he inquired in a voice that didn't exactly encourage replying 'yes'.

It took a while before Charles responded. "No, thank you. I'm fine." Something sounded off. It didn't take long before the issue was voiced. "Did you… kill the target?"

Erik nodded, the irritation rising once more. What the hell was it about Charles that made him question himself all the time? He hated it. "Yes. It's what I do for living, Charles." He hoped that the harsh tone would be enough to shut up all oncoming questions and judgements.

Well, he succeeded at least. Charles didn't say anything more, only seemed to tense up further. Or perhaps the telepath was trembling from the cold. Erik tried to tell himself that he didn't give a damn either way.

It took longer than it should've before Erik felt like he'd had enough to drink to be able to sleep without constant nightmares. When he half stumbled into the bedroom Charles hadn't moved an inch. Even in his drunken state the metal bender could see easily that by then the telepath was trembling.

Erik contemplated his options with drunken logic. He could let Charles freeze, of course. And risk having a pneumonia patient in his hands. That'd certainly be too much of a bother. So what choice did that leave him with?

Erik growled, slumping to the bed. The words he finally emitted weren't as coherent as he'd been hoping. "Just come to the bed, will you?" Sensing a wave of doubt and even fear Charles couldn't restrain he rolled his eyes. He was too damn tired for this… "You'll get sick down there, alright? So come to bed. I have no expectations." Truthfully, there was a part of him that would've been tempted to try all sorts of things with the bizarre creature that'd landed to his life. But as it was he was far too exhausted to even consider any of those options.

For quite a while Charles hesitated. Then he heard the smaller man move slowly and approach. The bed barely dipped under the telepath's light weight when the man first sat, then observed him for a moment before daring to lay down. Even without turning it was possible to tell that his visitor remained as close to the opposite edge as possible. "Thank you."

Erik closed his eyes although he had a feeling that sleep would be avoiding him. Charles' scent was filling his head, making a mess of it. "Hmph." He had no idea of what possessed him into uttering the following words. Perhaps it was the sound of Charles' uneven, nervous breathing. He wasn't excited about having this unwanted housemate but he also didn't want the telepath to be afraid of him. "Just so you know, I don't enjoy my job." _Most of the time, at least._ _I'm no fucking Shaw._ "It's just… the only thing I know."

"You don't need to explain, Erik." Charles' voice was soft, free of all accusations. "You don't owe me anything."

Erik gritted his teeth, his fists balling. "I know", he spat out slightly more harshly than he'd been supposed to. He swallowed, fighting the sudden urge to lean closer to the other. "I just… don't want you to think that I'm a monster." It was beyond him why he cared at all – it was stupid to feel the way he was feeling at the moment. He really shouldn't have.

He shivered with surprise when Charles moved. Still didn't come exactly close, but also wasn't quite so withdrawn. "Erik… I know that you're no monster. There's a lot of good inside of you. I've felt it, even though I haven't tried." He heard a gulp. "If you don't mind terribly… I'd like to show you."

Erik really, honestly didn't want Charles into his head, especially not after what he'd just done. But he was too tired to fight. He shrugged. "It's your own funeral. You won't like it in there."

Charles emitted a half amused 'hmm'. "Let me assure you, your mind isn't the worst one I've taken a look at. Just relax."

Erik wanted the snort. Relax? He was supposed to relax when…?

He shivered a little, all other thoughts coming to a halt, when he felt it. Felt Charles. The telepath's mind wrapped around his like a blanket, forming a securing cocoon that silenced the roars of his restless soul. At least for a moment. The telepath twirled around for a moment, as though searching, until the memory was offered to Erik. A clip Erik had thought was lost to he sands of time.

* * *

/ _He, at the age of no more than five, was curled up right next to his mother in his small yet comfortable bed, while she read in a quiet, soothing voice that made him feel safe in an instant. It was some sort of a fairytale, full of bravery and adventures. Erik found it hard to focus on the words. Her voice was all he needed to be able to calm down._

_Calm down, even though outside a war was raging._

_He listened to his mom and closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. And right there, on the edge of falling asleep, he could've sworn that he heard her whisper._

_"_Ich liebe dich, mein _schatz_. Ich liebe dich_."_ /

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Erik hadn't cried since he was a child. He'd already thought that he wasn't able to anymore. But at that moment there was quite a bit of moisture in his eyes. For some reason he didn't manage feel ashamed about it. Nor was he angry, no matter how much he wanted to be. "What… What the hell did you just…?"

He didn't turn towards Charles so he couldn't tell if the younger man's back was still turned towards him. He heard a quite loud gulp. "Thank you, for letting me see that. Thank you."

Erik didn't know what to say. What could one say in such a situation? Firmly ignoring the couple of tears that made their way stubbornly down his cheek he closed his eyes.

To his stun Erik fell asleep right there, beside Charles. And on some bizarre, inexplainable level it didn't feel wrong at all.

* * *

_Florida, Southern_ _District 4_

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Perhaps Erik wouldn't have slept so soundly if he'd known what was happening elsewhere.

Azazel, who'd been planning on getting some sleep for once, cracked one eye open when lights flashed on the screen on the opposite side of the room. He fought back a groan at the sight of Sebastian Shaw's face.

_Oh, fuck… Now what?_

"I'm assuming that you have a good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night", he growled.

"_I'll pay you very well for your efforts, so I'd suggest you listen carefully._" Shaw's eyes were sharp, dangerous. "_One of my slaves was taken a while ago. I believe that your… expertise might help me get him back._"

Azazel nodded, already fully awake. Perhaps this was something worthy of his attention, after all… "Did you have him micro chipped?" he inquired.

Shaw nodded stiffly. "_Of course I did. I always mark my property._" There was a second's pause. When he gave no reaction the other man went on. "_He needs to be taught a lesson – and the one who took him must be punished for taking what's mine. I'll pay you three times the usual price if you can help me with that._"

Hell, Azazel would've done just about anything for less. Now he was definitely curious. _This slave must be something really special._ "Send me the coordinates and I'll see what I can do. Just out of curiosity, though… Who's the poor sucker that took him?"

The expression on Shaw's face didn't change while the name of the doomed soul fell. "_Erik Lensherr._"

Azazel blinked twice at that. _Well, bloody damn…_ This was definitely going to be interesting.

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TBC

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A/N: Oh, great… Just what those two needed. Shaw. And Azazel unleashed. Who else is going to come out and mess with them? (groans)

I've really gotta go; I should be all up and about in… just a little bit over six hours and there's a million things I need to do before I'll get to bed. Oh, goodie… (sighs) BUT, before I skip out, PLEASE, leave a review! Let me know if this chapter was any good, at all. Pwease…? Awww, c'mon, you'd make me super happy.

Until next time! I really hope that you'll all be there.

Take care!

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**anonymous**: Oh, goodie, goodie, goodie…! (gets all starry eyed) (chuckles) You do realize that you've just tempted me really hard, don't you? But no worries. I won't read you fantastic guys here at hanging. Pinkie swear!

Poor Charles, no? (winces) It'd be interesting to see a little more about his headspace. There's gotta be a storm in there. (sighs) We'll see how things develop between those two. They've both been through a hell. Let's hope that they'll get the happy ending they deserve.

Huge thank yous for the review, and tip!

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**sjl**: Nah, I can never stay away for long. (grins) Awww, you sure know how to make my day! (beams and hugs) Gosh, how I hope that you'll just as happy with the next one.

Until next time, my friend! Gigantic thank yous for the review!

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**Guest**: Seriously? YAY! (jumps up and down with joy) I REALLY hope that the next one turns out worthy of your expectations.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


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